Oh boy, this movie is simply awful. I want the last 75 minutes of my life back. Actually, I want the filmmaker to reimburse my Netflix subscription fee and buy me lunch to make up for this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad film. I could run my scrotum down the length of a cheese grater, repeatedly, and I’d have a more pleasurable experience than I had while watching this film. And, please, trust me on this: This isn't a film that's so bad it's good. It will not achieve cult status, or have midnight showings at dollar cinemas. It is simply bad.
The Last House on Cemetery Lane is an art-house romance/horror hybrid gone wrong. Lee Bane is the one shining kernel of corn in this massive pile of excrement, as his acting isn’t half bad. I felt sorry for this poor schmuck the majority of the film, but only because his obvious talent was wasted on a shit script written by a shit director who also shittily produced the movie. If I were Lee Bane I would request my name be stricken from this movie’s credits, and then take up starring in pornography to mend my sullied reputation.
This example of how not to make movies is one of the worst watchable films I’ve seen. Nothing makes you want to turn it off, because it fakes being a slow burn rather well. What you think you’re getting is character development and dread-building scenarios, but what you’re actually seeing is a amateur director fumbling the ball in extreme slow motion. By the time you reach the exposition dump toward the end, you come to fully understand you’ve been tricked. But not by the twist ending. There is no payoff. The director gives up and calls a cab, and you’re left wallowing in self pity. You’ve been flimflammed into watching a Lifetime Original Movie, which has barely enough of a budget to run a lemonade stand two days out of seven. You will hate yourself for finishing this flick. Then you will hate the director. Perhaps you will even wish him harm. I do not condone such senseless violence, but you might not be opposed to watching this director ride a bicycle without a seat down a bumpy road.
It’s that time again. A time when I transfer the notes on my legal pad over to this digital realm. There will be language. There might even be blood. There will definitely be sadness.
Discount Anjelica Huston
Discount Bearded Jude Law
This woman’s nose has a lifeline.
Discount Jude Law’s beard has not a single fuck to give for hygiene.
Cocaine pinkie nail. Check!
This guy is way too friendly with cockroaches.
When the fuck did he get on the beach?
The director’s little brother’s Echo and the Bunnymen cover band wrote this song specifically for this movie.
When the fuck did he get in a treehouse?
Creepy child's room with a doll on the bed. Check!
Does anything actually happen in this movie?
“Got any sugar?” must be code for “Fancy a fuck?”
Am I watching a horror movie or a romance with a broken soundtrack?
This was written by V. C. Andrews, wasn’t it?
Goddamn it. Somebody tricked me into watching a Lifetime Original Movie…
Is that motherfuckin’ Evil-Lyn?
Do these people ever change their clothes?
“You’ve awoken something in me.” Yeah… his dick.
He’s been wearing the same underwear for the past four days.
I’m very uncomfortable right now. I shouldn't be, but I am.
REDRUM! … Part 2!
So … much … talking …
A motherfuckin’ Ouija board? Seriously?
This movie just got really fucking stupid.
Dude just went from zero to batshit in two frames.
Boy … this film is a real piece of shit.
WHEN WILL IT END?!?!?!
15 minutes left … fuck my life …
It only took her four seconds to smother that lady with a pillow.
Wow … the director gave up right there. It's bad when you can see the exact moment in a horrible movie when the director says, "It's already ruined, so whatever, right? YOLO, BITCHES!"
In summation: If you're looking for a bad movie to make fun of throughout the week, this isn't like Troll 2. It's bad. Depressingly so. Stay away. Stay far, far away.
Final Judgement: A Lifetime Original Movie without the big budget.